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RHYMES GRAVE AND GAY 



RHYMES 

GRAVE AND GAY 



By 
CAROLYN AND GORDON HILLMAN 




THE CORNHILL COMPANY 
BOSTON 









Copyright, 1919, by 
The Cornhill Company 



vv.oi.A530930 



^l"^ c^"^ I3I9 



TO ONE WHO IS NO LONGER 
WITH US 



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

Are due to Mr. Braithwaite s 1918 Anthology, 
The Boston Transcri'pt, the Sjmr, Town and 
Country, and the Nantucket Inquirer and 
Mirror far 'permission to rej)rint poems which 
have previously appeared in those publications. 



Contents 

Page 

Printemps 1 

A Rouse ^ 

'Is Missus ^ 

Devonshire Lad 5 

" Gat Goes a Gordon " ''' 

Devon Drumbeats ^ 

The Blue Strand 1^ 

The Hero 11 

The Question 1^ 

Homeward Bound ^^ 

In the Country 16 

Your Garden 1' 

The Little Girl That Died 18 

The Dim Trail 19 

The Spring Lanes 21 

Sugar Hill 2* 

The Old Graveyard 2S 

The Brook ^ 

Bristol Hills 25 

The Wind and the Road 26 

Pasquaney Lake 28 

Nantucket ^^ 

Song ^1 

Harbor Lights 32 

The Old Mill 35 

Nantucket Lanes 36 

Longing 37 

Wauwinet 38 

A Fantasy 39 

Home Again ^^ 

The Smugglers 4)2 

Answers *3 



Contents 



Page 

Lake Michigan 44 

Pattington Beach 46 

The Quorn 48 

For Memory .50 

The Bobby on the Beat 51 

Moth and Star 53 

Bird of Joy 54 

Price 55 

Friendship 55 

The Old Bayou 56 

L 'Envoi 57 



AROUND THE YEAR 

We sometimes think he must return 
Ere yet the May-time passes. 
In summer-time we do not yearn; 
He rests beneath the grasses. 

But in the spring, each tender tint 
Each new moon birth is telling 
Of here, once more upon the earthy 
His gentle spirit dwelling. 

In later year, when skies are gray 
Or snow is heaped in masses 
Again from us he wends his way. 
Again his brave soul passes. 



WAR TIME 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



PRINTEMPS 

The spring rolls up in Picardy 

Like a great white cloud in May, 

The spring comes late in Picardy, 

It's marching there today. 

The blackbirds sing from ruined eaves, 

And Mayflowers spring from rotting leaves, 

In Picardy, in Picardy, in Picardy in spring. 

The road toSt.Cete,it twists and winds and bends. 

The road to St. Cete, it never, never ends. 

The trees that grow beside it are bursting forth 

again, 
And tender buds are opening in the gentle April 

rain, 
In Picardy, in Picardy, in Picardy in spring. 

A brown flood pours along the road, 

And shells plow up the wheat-fields sowed; 

But the soldiers sing as they march away. 

And green grass sprouts from the torn-up clay. 

The airplanes sail in the brilliant blue; 

But the skylarks mount on their wings, too, 

In Picardy, in Picardy, in Picardy in spring. 



[1 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



A ROUSE 

This is our last night together, 
Comrades ! 
Comrades ! 

Let us drink to morn. 
Drink to rose and purple heather, 
To the land where we were born. 
Let us drink to Bonnie Scotland. 
Give a cheer, lads! Give a cheer! 
Out among the hell of shot, and 
Out among the poison gases, 
Think upon our laughing lasses. 
All stand now and drain the glasses. 
Give a cheer now ! Give a cheer! 

This is our last night together. 

Comrades ! 

Comrades ! 

Let us drink a toast. 

Damn the Germans, hell to leather! 

Teach them how to boast. 

Let us drink to Bonnie Scotland; 

Give a cheer, lads! Give a cheer! 

Only once we die and rot, and 

Only once a brave soul passes. 

For us say no solemn masses. 

All stand now and drain the glasses. 

Give a cheer now ! Give a cheer ! 



[2] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



'IS MISSUS 

Joe 'e is a 'ero, a-wearin' of 'is cross, 

Joe 'e is a 'ero but 'is missus is his boss. 

He went into the army 'cause she threw 'im out 

o' home — 
She 'it 'im with a broomstick an* tol* 'im *' Gro an' 

roam." 



An' so 'e's been a-roamin' — a-fightin' o' the 

Dutch — 
But the fightin' 'e's been doin' don't amount to 

much 
An' now e"s comin' up the walk a-swingin' o' 'is 

stick 
An' in a 'arf han 'our, 'e'U be scrubbin' o' the 

brick. 



The King 'e takes 'im by the paw an' shows 'im to 

the Queen, 
An' now 'e's out upon 'is knees a-weedin' of the 

green. 
'Is missus sits upon the steps, a-lookin' at 'is 

cross 
The King 'e is a ruler, but 'is missus is 'is boss. 



3] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



'E's a-bustin' o' the stovepipe an' scrubbin' o' the 

floor 
While 'is missus sits afore 'im so's 'e carn't get out 

the door. 
'E's out upon 'is furlough — takin' of 'is rest 
But 'is missus says for workin' an' workin' is the 

best. 

The King 'e is a ruler, the Queen she is his wife; 
A general 's a rubber doll what 's sudden come to 

life; 
A 'ero is a 'ero — a-wearin' of 'is cross — 
But you '11 find a 'ero's missus alius is 'is boss. 



[4] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



DEVONSHIRE LAD 

There's a little town in Devon 

A-winking at the sun. 

There was a lad in Devon 

Before the war begun. 

Who strayed across the purple downs 

Who watched across the sea. 

Who saw from a hill, the seven towns 

And Cornwall to the lea. 

He marched away from Devon 

A-bound for Plymouth Hoe, 

And the prettiest girl in Devon 

Cried as she watched him go. 

He waved farewell to the headlands, 

He never saw them more. 

And sailed away to the dull gray sands 

Of the rocky Breton shore. 

He saw the fields of Artois 

A-gleaming in the rain. 

He saw the hills of Artois, 

And thought of a Devon lane, 

Where roses grow in the summer days, 

Where the great downs tower high. 

Where the last faint light of the sunset's rays 

Must always come to die. 



[5] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



There's a little town in Devon 

Half hid among the downs. 

There's a pretty girl in Devon 

Who sits, and waits, and frowns. 

Who watches the road she saw him go, 

Whose hopes are always high, 

Who watches the road to Plymouth Hoe 

The road he took to die. 



[6] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



"GAY GOES A GORDON" 

Donald the piper marched away 

From Aberdeen Town on a July day 

To sail for the fields of sunny France, 

Where the vine-leaves prosper and maidens dance. 

And the sound of his pipes in the summer air 

Challenged his foes as a devil-may-care. 

Down the road from old Calais 
Sound the tunes of the pipers gay, 
And the simple peasants in the grain 
Stare and stare, and look again 
At the swinging column of lads in brown 
That came to fight from Aberdeen Town. 

Down the road where Caesar came. 
Speckled now with spurts of flame. 
Tramp the pipers, playing still, 
Tunes of Scotland's dale and hill. 
While the weary men that march along 
Take a part in the pipers' song. 

Donald the piper, alone alive 

Of his Gordon comrades, twenty-five, 

Piped in the midst of shot and shell. 

Piped his regiment out of hell, 

And marched with his plaid of bluish-green 

As gaily as if in Aberdeen. 



[7 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



And the sound of the pipes in the April air 

Took them back to Scotland fair, 

And the cheering crowds as they marched away. 

From Aberdeen on a summer's day — 

There comes a halt in the music clear, 

"Donald's gone west." — The clansmen cheer! 

Donald the piper, so they say, 

Sounds his skirls under Flanders' clay. 

But his captain smiles, and shakes his head, 

"Donald never can be dead. 

And we'll see him yet, in his jacket brown, 

Piping his way through Aberdeen Town." 



[8] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



DEVON DRUMBEATS 

The fertile fields of Devon shall never see them 

more. 
The farmer sons of Devon have gone away to war, 
Have gone from the downs, the fens, and wolds. 
Have left their land and all it holds 
For the dreary field of Northern France 
Where the piper plays his devil dance. 

They see the downs of Devon in the mist of yes- 
terday. 

They see the downs of Devon till they rest be- 
neath the clay. 

They're watching and a-waiting for the day that 
never comes 

When they'll be marching back through Devon- 
shire to the beating of the drums. 

When the hawthorn is in flower and the gorse is 
smelling sweet, 

And the dusty roads of Devon are shimm'ring in 
the heat. 



[9] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE BLUE STRAND 

Ah, *tis many a year now since I left the Irish 

border, 
Left the sea and the blue, blue land, 
'Tis green is Ireland on the hillside, 
But 'tis blue it is upon its strand. 
Ah, the blue strand in the morning sparkling, 
An' the hawthorn wet at dawn of day. 
Ah, the green hills glistening in the gloaming 
An' the lights a-gleaming, gleaming 'cross the bay. 
Ah, the heart of me is breaking slowly, 
The hair of me is growing gray. 
But the soul of me is sighing in the springtime 
For the morn of just one perfect day, 
When my lover stood beside me in the springtime, 
When the peat fires burned with sullen flame, 
When the heart of me was bursting into glory. 
That's the day my bonnie lover came. 
Now 'tis Flanders' sod he's lying under, 
Deep, deep down 'neath Flanders' clay. 
And my soul cries out, way through the gloaming 
For my bonnie lad who marched away. 
Ah, 'tis spring again in lovely Ireland, 
And 'tis spring again in this far land. 
But I — My heart is breaking 
With the crying of the sea-gulls on the strand. 



[10] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE HERO 

Cockney Joe o' Lunnon is a-takin' of his air. 
Cockney Joe o' Lunnon is a-mincin' down the 

square, 
A-showing of the golden cross he got to the war; 
An' no one here in Lunnon knows wot he got it 

for. 

Cockne}^ Joe o' Lunnon is a-goin* to the halls. 
An' like as not he'll go an' sit right down among 

the stalls, 
A-showing o' his golden cross, a-stickin' on his 

chest. 
He's out upon his furlough an' takin' of his rest. 

Cockney Joe o' Lunnon is a-eatin' o' his tuck, 
He's a damnin' an' a swearin' at the filthy muck. 
He's a fiUin' up on crumpets, an' swillin on his tea. 
An' a more stuck up sojer man, no one ever see. 

Cockney Joe o' Lunnon has a score or more o* 

loves, 
A-cooin' an' a-squealin' like a dozen brace of doves; 
An' it looks as if he'd get a wife before the end 

o' day. 
But Cockney Joe o' Lunnon is a-spending o' his pay, 

[11] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



Cockney Joe o' Lunnon is a-wastin' o' his tin, 
An* if he's got a copper, he's bound to blow it in. 
He's been in quod for gettin' drunk upon a holiday. 
He up an' told the judge, he'd got ter spend his 
pay. 

He tried to dance the hornpipe in the middle o* 

the square, 
A-kickin' o' his legs an' a -pawin' o' the air. 
The bobby caught 'im in the act, an' took him 

back to jail. 
But blest if in seven days, he wasn't out on bail. 

For he's a hero, the hero o' the line. 

He saved his bloomin' regiment from ridin' on a 

mine. 
An' so the off 'cers all salute, an' fellers touch their 

hats — 
Cockney Joe o' Lunnon just turns his nob an' 

spats. 



12] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE QUESTION 

The hawthorn's budding sweet today. 
Ah, Christ, how can it bear to blow 
And Archie far away from me 
With the brave lads who row on row 
Must lie and rot in Flanders' field. 

I hate the blooming hawthorn tree, 

Every sound and scent of May. 

They tear my very heart from me 

To think upon that sodden way 

He vainly carried youth's white shield. 

Christ, was it vain? Can he yet know 

Some scent of May, its falling rain; 

Through star-dust fires, from some dim height 

Can he still see this blossoming lane — 

Our rose-white hawthorn's old spring yield. 



[13] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



HOMEWARD BOUND 

The Devon sea is purpling now, 
The Devon shores are dim. 
The Devon hills a shapeless crest, 
The Cornish coast is grim. 

Sunset's light was stronger then. 
The hills flared up with red, 
Flared as red as Flanders' fields 
Where lie the Devon dead. 

The Devon wind is rising fast 
The Devon mist falls low 
The Devon coast was clearer then 
In the flame of the afterglow. 

The Devon air is moist and sweet 
The downs rise in the sky 
All black against the harbor lights 
Where the homebound transports lie. 



[14 



IN THE COUNTRY 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



IN THE COUNTRY 

'Tis raining in the country 
Sheets of silver slanting rain 
'Tis glaring in the city, 
The same red sun again. 

The pavement's dry and blanching. 
The air is dry and hot, 
Some fair god made the country 
But the city, he forgot. 

The news comes to the city 
Of the battle's latest rout. 
By brooksides in the country 
Rises a shining trout. 

Then let me leave the city 
With all its madding roar 
And in the good green country 
Meet the country's god once more. 



[16] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



YOUR GARDEN 

All through the summer's golden glow 
And through the autumn hazes, 
How sweet to see your roses blow, 
The poppies' vivid blazes. 

Your garden was a rare delight 
And you a generous giver, 
We watched from dawn till dewy night 
The larkspur's bright blue quiver. 

The hollyhocks and columbine, 
The pansies and the daisies. 
And sweet peas laid out line on line, 
Clove pink its gay head raises. 

And you at work among them there, 
Dear good friendly neighbor, 
Once more I see your garden fair 
And you at loving labor. 



[!■ 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE LITTLE GIRL THAT DIED 

So few the summers that she knew, 
So few of spring's bright hours; 
And yet your heart, beneath its rue. 
With spring's returning flowers 



Is peaceful when you visit there — 
The tiny mound that covers 
The little girl who never grew 
To care for lads as lovers. 

Who never grew to know the pain 
Of living, and of loving, 
Of joy and then of grief again, 
With all stern life's behooving. 

She lived her little moment's life 
Where all was love around her, 
And nothing knows of later strife, 
Now new horizons bound her. 



[18] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE DIM TRAIL 

J. D. 

There's a ruined farmhouse on a hill 
Near a rustic bridge o'er a quiet rill, 
And near the house, there's an apple tree. 
Jim, you'd better go back with me. 



Up the road and over the hill, 
After the bears we didn't kill, 
Over the rocks of Cardigan, 
Where it was just the same when the world be- 
gan. 



To the apple tree and the road beside, 
To the straying trail o'er the mountain side. 
To the leaping brook where we caught the trout 
Jim, let 's go back for a quiet scout. 



Where you sit with your feet out over the edge, 
And every forest looks a hedge, 
And the great White Mountains, far away. 
Blaze with the flame of returning day. 

[19] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



And the purple shadows of coming night 
Steal like a cloud up the mountain height. 
Now we're older. The trail is dim. 
1*11 bet you wish we were back there, Jim ! 



[20] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE SPRING LANES 

Rose lighted in the summer 
Are the mellow country lanes; 

And ruby lit in autumn 

Through the gently falling rains. 

With star lights in the winter 
Like glistening silver stains 

But gorse lit in the spring-time — 
Ah! Spring has thieved the gains. 



[21] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



SUGAR HILL 

It whispers in the autumn 
When the trees are dry and brown. 
It whispers then so loudly, 
You can hear it in the town. 

It whispers in the night-time. 
Wh-r-r! Beneath the rising moon 
And it whispers in the day-time 
In the sun's fierce glare at noon. 

And if you don't believe it, 
Just you listen, anytime 
When you are passing by it 
Since the frost is in the rime. 



[22] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE OLD GRAVEYARD 

A stretch of hills low lying, and afar 

The graveyard where the grey slabs are. 

Sometimes you see a hawk wing by. 

A small boy stones it. Hear sometimes the cry 

Of waterfowl up on the lake. 

Then all is quiet, save sometimes you make 

Out the church clock's last beating peal. 

So quiet ! What heavenly peace to heal 

The souls that lie beneath the sod. 

Are they there, or at last at rest with God? 



[23] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE BROOK 

Over and over the pebbles 
In raying rims of light 
In a thousand quick'ning trebles 
The brooklet takes its flight. 

I stand on the bridge and ponder 
*Neath soft blue summer sky — 
Do I hear the brook, I wonder, 
Or but my own heart's sigh? 



[24] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



BRISTOL HILLS 

The distant hills of Bristol 
I see them shining clear, 
The hazy hills I used to climb 
To sain my saddest year. 

The purple hills of Bristol 
I see them shining still, 
The heathy hills I used to climb 
To balm my deepest ill. 

The lighted hills of Bristol 
I see them shining plain — 
The happy hills I used to climb 
And shall not climb again. 



[25] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE WIND AND THE ROAD 

Down among the valleys, 

Down among the hills, 

There's a wind that sometimes dallies, 

A wind of a thousand thrills. 



It whispers of a cornfield 
Far away from me. 
It whispers of a cornfield 
Where I should like to be. 



It whispers of a dusty road 
Across a fertile land. 
It whispers of a dusty road 
That deepens into sand. 



The high road, the low road, 
The road that runs between. 
The low hills, the high hills, 
The hills of gallant green. 



[26] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



The mountains in the distance, 
The island on the lake. 
The river in the valley 
Winding like a snake. 



[27] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



PASQUANEY LAKE 

The lake is molten silver, 
The hills are gnomes of jet, 
The moon a ball of ivory 
Caught in the sky's blue net. 

The trees are dimly dappled, 
The roads are dusky ways, 
Flares of scarlet leap on high 
From an island camp-fire's blaze. 



f28 



NANTUCKET 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



NANTUCKET 

The sea gleams green as a bit of jade 
The moors are brown and bright, 
The breakers dance across the beach 
And turn its gold to white. 

The sky is sunned to a Cobalt blue 
A yacht scuds up the bay 
And over the roofs of the whaling town 
The mill stands gaunt and grey. 



[30 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



SONG 

Here in a crowded city 
I lie me down to die. 
There in the seaside village 
They hear the curlew cry. 

They hear it, wondering dully 
Why it calls tonight — 
Alone in helpless sorrow 
My soul is taking flight. 

But with the scented sunrise 
Will the curlew cease its cry, 
For in the dusk of dawning 
My heart goes home to die. 



[31] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



HARBOR LIGHTS 

A long time ago when I was a school-girl 
I boarded at a skipper's by the shore, 
On the loveliest land I can remember, 
The dim and dreamy land of Nevermore. 

I could see when I looked out from my window 
The great white ships a-sailing off to sea, 
As on and on and on they went a-fairing, 
Past the lighthouse at Brant Point on the lee. 

And there was one old squat tub of a steamer 
That tramped and wallowed all the way to town. 
To New Bedford, where she docked, and snorted 
When her captain brought her in and laid her 
down. 

I loved to ride on that old white steamer, 
But far better still I loved to sail 
Up the harbor on the dingy packet 
That carried the brown canvas bags of mail. 

And the sheeps'-commons that I wandered over 
Plucking bluebells and heather as I went. 
And the great gray waves tossing in the distance 
Where sullen tides drew out, far flung and spent. 

[32] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



The sights and smells of Main street were delight- 
ful. 
Each dusky shop a fairy tale of bliss, 
The markets with fruits sprawled out in patterns, 
And sticky sweets called *' Salt Water Kiss.'* 

But best of all, I loved to go a-fishing 

For the bluefish, away off on the rips, 

With my dear old brown wigged landlord captain. 

Who sails the sea no more in man-made ships. 

Oh, the salt yarns that he was always telling, 

And of the gold he got in forty-nine. 

And of how he fought in the Rebellion, 

Then came his sudden call, '*Pull in your line!" 

And how he traveled in the Orient, 

Took winning part in a Kanaka race. 

Such priceless tales for a slow hour of yarning. 

He told with shining eyes and sober face. 



I think he never died but just went outward. 
Just sailed away one quiet autumn night, — 
When the tides were setting slowly heavenward 
He drifted by his well-known harbor light. 

[33] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



I think that some celestial sea he 's sailing, 
Or standing on some far celestial quay 
In youth's bright land of Nevermore, still waitings 
I*m sure that Captain Ben will welcome me. 



[34 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE OLD MILL 

The wind sweeps over the sunny hill, 
The grass bends with the breeze. 
The old mill whirls its arms about 
With a staid but royal wheeze. 

They built it stout and greyly squat 
Like an old-time Java brig. 
You 'd know it was a sailor's work 
From its lines so trim and trig. 

Its grey holds back the moorland's brown 
From the greyer roofs below. 
It stands, a burnished sentinel. 
In the sunset's crimson glow. 



[35] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



NANTUCKET LANES 

One winds about in and out 
Through lanes that have no ending, 
And far and near, through air, sun clear 
Our devious way we're wending. 

Now coming out, or just about, 
Upon the seiners mending, 
And far and drear, with no ship near, 
The white caps, never ending. 

Ah, look about, the tide is out. 
O'er seas the silence rending — 
Hark, far and clear, a clang of cheer 
The bell-buoy's warn is sending! 



[36] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



LONGING 

Give me the moors again and salt sea waves 
Where the sun and the wind, those arrant knaves, 
Mix a coat of tan for my pHant face. 
Just let me go back to the dear old place. 
There on its tidcr swept, wind-beat island shore 
To commune with the old sea-gods once more. 

There by the juniper and fragrant bay, 
To spend long hours of a summer day. 
Let me sit in rapture with wind and sun, 
Never heeding the moments as they run. 
In bliss with life, with books, with love. 
Needing naught else but the kind sky above. 

Let me think of times in the long dim past, 
Of the friendships broken, and lost at last; 
Dreams turned dust, the fitful life I 've led, — 
And of two on the hill — my quiet dead. 
The mirage of youth, the few prizes won. 
Oh, nothing matters in Nantucket sun ! 



[37] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



WAUWINET 

A blue dawn this morning 
Blue sea and bluer sky 
With one lone heron rising 
On silver wings to fly. 

A blue world this morning, 
A soft vague smoky hue, 
Toward the west there's winging 
One grey bird through the blue. 



[38] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



A FANTASY 

I sing a song of dawning 
Far, far out at sea 
Rose and purple sunrise, 
The old sea-gods for me. 

The old sea-gods forever, 
I see one rising now 
All in the purple sunrise 
With silver spray hung brow. 

With eyes forever mocking 
That hold the old, old lure 
The one god I ever loved — 
The god my faith holds sure. 

I knew him in my youth-time, 
I 've loved him all my life — 
If only a deep sea god 
Could choose a mortal wife! 

Dawning 's done and over 
And rose has changed to gray, 
Neptune calls my sea-god home 
Beneath the driven spray. 



[39] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



HOME AGAIN 

A stretch of burning beach sand, 
A fringe of sparkhng foam. 
Sankaty's light looms highly white 
To call the fishers home. 

S'conset roofs show faintly grey 
Shaping each elfin street, 
And up and down the little town 
The moor winds blowing sweet. 

Then home it is from sullen seas 
Where the screaming storm gulls fly 
Back again through fog and rain 
Where Sankaty's headlands lie. 



[40] 



VISIONS, VOICES AND VAGARIES 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE SMUGGLERS 

The Devon sky's a dark'ning flood. 
The moor-pools are aflame. 
The Devon hills are tinged with blood 
From the Tamar to St. Dame. 

The smugglers come to Devon 
Just once in every year: 
They are the ghosts of Devon 
That all the coast folk fear. 

They walk again on one May night 
When the grey is in the sky, 
And they say it is a wond'rous sight 
When the gallant ghosts come by. 

Smugglers with their chests of gold 
Seeking for their hidden dens. 
Smugglers as in days of old 
Stealing cross the shadowy fens. 

The Devon sky's a stormy wraclc. 
The Devon hills are dim. 
The smugglers' ghosts have hastened back 
Over the morning's rim. 



[42] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



ANSWERS 



T. M. L. 



Dear boy, how many vanished years ago 
Your happy smile and true eyes' eager glance, 
For me, made first youth's friendship something 

rare. 
On river-bordered walk, at merriest dance, 
Wherever by day or eve youth had its joy, 
We drank its cup together, you a knight 
In armor clad of gallant hopes and visions. 
A lad at once gay-hearted, laughing light. 
Yet brave and gentle as a knight should be. 
In memory we still roam down youth's rosy lane. 

And now another path your feet have wandered 

down. 
That old weary way of death, past dark gates of 

pain. 
Your soul has solved those questions we used to 

ask 
In youth's first frank, seeking, hopeful thought. 
Now you may know, for God at last has given you, 
Quite fair and young again, the answ^ers that we 

sought. 



[43] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



LAKE MICHIGAN 

I sing a song of a lake that's blue, — 
(Michigan, that's meant for you !) 
That swells from Straits of Mackinaw 
Back to Chicago's Iron Maw. 

I sing a song of a lake with bays, 
That can't be seen in a hundred days. 
Of beaches and quiet sandy dunes 
That glitter under western moons. 

Of steamers gay, and the moonlight's trail 
On the deep black water over the rail. 
Of dull grey mornings, Wisconsin's shores, 
And the sunny straits of Michigan's doors. 

I sing a song of a lake at noon. 
Of waves that lap like an ancient rune, 
Of long red freighters to the lea. 
And hovering gulls on an inland sea. 

Of a greying sky and dashing spray. 
Of Michigan on a stormy day. 
When the spume leaps over funnels tall 
And the wind sends out an eerie call. 



[44] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



I sing a song of a lake most blue 
Michigan, that's meant for you ! 
Of birches white, with slender grace. 
That fringe the harbor of Saint Ignace. 



[45] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



PATTINGTON BEACH 

L. C. 

An old brown whaleback beating up the lake, 
The dingy grey sand-sucker, standing like a 

drake, 
Are some of the things that come to my mind 
When I think of the years I have left behind. 



The shore of the lake was the promised land 
Where we fashioned our harbors from the sand, 
As we looked across at the intake light 
And stared at the steamers, grey and white 



As they slid along with a brownish plume 
Of trailing smoke and sun-splashed shume 
As their sharp bows ploughed the waters blue 
On their week end journey to the Soo. 



And the freighters with single funnel aft, 
Puffing Chicago tugs, and tramping craft 
That made the lake like a crowded road 
Of vessels hastening to drop their load. 

[46] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



There was plenty of sand to play upon — 
A great bare, brown beach with never a stone — 
Where in the autumn time a lone wild duck 
Would clumsily alight and walk and cluck. 

We would sit and watch him, my chum and I, 
As he waved his wings and voiced his cry. 
And wished we could follow his distant flight 
As he sailed Southward through the night. 

They've put a wooden wall around the sand 

For somebody complained his land 

Was being eaten by the lake, and so 

It Ml never be the same again no matter when I go. 



[47] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE QUORN 

Oh, for a sight of the far flung dawn 
Oh, for a ride with the dashing Quorn. 
A ride we may envy, you and I, 
A ride to take and then to die. 



A gallop through the waking town 
Over the moorland, grey and brown, 
Through the bracken and into the sedge. 
A leap, and over the ancient hedge. 



Dan Russell the fox is quick this morn. 

He hears the sound of the master's horn 

As its echoes scatter far and near 

And the bay of hounds comes strong and clear. 



A red streak past the alders' bow, 
A scurry of hounds and the '* View Holloa," 
Through the gate and over the brook. 
We laugh to think of the jump we took. 



[48] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



Oh, for a sight of the far flung dawn. 
Oh, for a ride with the dashing Quorn 
The ringing horn — the hounds' deep bay 
And the rousing shout " Gone, Gone Away! ** 



[49] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



FOR MEMORY 

He was my first lover, 
And I was seventeen. 
He sent a bunch of roses, 
The dainty Bon Silene. 

I wore them to the dance. 
There's many years between, 
Yet still I hear ** The Lancers," 
Still love the Bon Silene. 

When they played " Blue Danube," 
The music's silver sheen 
Led us to first youth's heaven. 
Ah, scent of Bon Silenel 

The seasons have been many 
Since his boyish face I've seen. 
Yet still upon my birthday 
I buy the Bon Silene. 



[50] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE BOBBY ON THE BEAT 

'E's a rascal, *e's a rascal. 
'E drinks 'is whisky neat. 
'E*s a rascal, *e*s a rascal, 
The bobby on the beat. 

*E breaks up friendly argiments 
That happens now an' then, 
'E breaks up friendly argiments 
An' jails a dozen men. 

'E's death on lovin' couples, 
An' 'e's pizon to the drunks. 
'E travels round in couples, 
Like a pair of ol' fat skunks. 

A-walkin' down the Lunnon Strand, 
A-struttin' in the square, 
You stops a minute to 'ear a band, 
An' blamed if 'e ain't there. 

'E's a devil, 'e's a devil. 
We hates 'im now like sin 
Since 'e broke up a quiet revel 
Wot we was settin' in. 

[511 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 

'E*s a buster an' a bounder. 
There's only one thing good. 
It's agin the law to 'it yer. 
But don't 'e wish 'e could! 



[52] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



MOTH AND STAR 

Castles in the air, gray castles, 
Dim outlines rise and glimmer, 
Built of songs and sighs and longings, 
And moonbeams' transient shimmer. 

Gray moths float about the towers. 
Gray dawns around them rising, 
And high o'er topmost turret. 
Desire's white star apprizing. 



[53] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



BIRD OF JOY 

The long lights shake and shiver 
On a deep translucent river, 
And the ashen aspens quiver 
By a mystical river of dream. 

Clear green, pale pelucid green. 
Shining shadows' silken sheen 
Where gray dragon-flies careen 
On a magical river of dream. 

And red rose leaves float. 
Each a rare, rocked, crimson boat, 
Till they reach a far faerie moat 
Off a mystical river of dream. 

A rainbow island lying there. 
Tinted castles rising fair. 
In flower scented summer air 
On a magical river of dream. 

On emerald tree spray clinging. 
Ere yet his last flight winging, 
Rests life's white joy bird, singing 
O'er a mystical river of dream. 



[54] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



PRICE 

I sail upon a sea uneharted. 
Life's sea of pain and care. 
My cargo is as yet unmarted. 
God grant I sell it fair. 



FRIENDSHIP 

Dark, all dark around me, 
My day seemed almost done — 
Then your great heart found me, 
And flash! Out shone the sun. 



[55] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



THE OLD BAYOU 

Trees and trees, row on row, 
Bathed in light of the afterglow — 
Grey and slender, straight and slim. 
On the western bank all grey and dim. 

Rose to gold and grey to blue 
The sunset tints the old bayou, 
While over tlie river swift and deep 
Shadows of sundown shake and creep. 

Like half dead tales of Creole days 
Long hid in misty river bays. 
Too shy for day — too bold for night. 
Alone revealed in the sunset's light. 



[56] 



Rhymes Grave and Gay 



L'ENVOI 

You gave to us in days of death 
The kindest word yet spoken; 
These verses free, our hearts beneath, 
We send them as a token. 

There was a glance from your kind eyes, 
A balm to our hearts — broken; 
And now with all that in us lies, 
We send these for a token. 

Of simple verse, — a slender book, — 
Ah, please do not return it 
But give to it that same kind look. 
Then — if you choose — why, burn it! 



[57] 



SlAVE R -How lAND PBia 

271 Fr*nkhn St. 
XOSTOJ^ 



:!fiar 

"015 939 028 7 





